Twins' goal is intercepted

Athletes separated by a matter of the heart

Chris Coduto / Special to The Star
Rick Elmore, left, and Cory Elmore sit at University of Arizona's stadium in Tucson, Ariz. Rick starts at defensive end for Arizona when it plays UCLA today.

Rick and Cory Elmore (left/right unknown)

It only took a few hours to fix the real hole in Cory Elmore's heart.

The doctor threaded a catheter through an artery in his groin and plugged the hole with a double-umbrella device.

But more than a year later, a hole still remains.

It's one that can't be spotted on an echocardiogram. It's one that can't be fixed with surgery.

The emptiness Elmore feels inside is from walking away from a sport he loves, from letting go of an athletic identity and from severing a bond with a brother.

Cory and Rick Elmore are identical twins from Simi Valley who shared a dream of playing together in the National Football League.

From signing up for Pop Warner, to signing their letters of intent to play at the University of Arizona, they have never been apart in football.

But when Arizona plays UCLA today at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, Rick Elmore will be starting at defensive end, while Cory Elmore will be in the stands in street clothes.

The surgery to repair Cory's heart gave the 20-year-old a new perspective on life. He chose his future over instant gratification, although the decision did not come easily.

"It's hard enough to walk away from football, but it is harder walking away from my brother," Cory Elmore said. "But I know all the sacrifices I am making now are going to pay off in the long run. I really believe that."

Cory Elmore never had reason to suspect there was anything wrong with his heart. He was a strong, healthy Division I athlete with a vigorous daily workout schedule.

But when Arizona's trainers noticed that Rick's heart rate was elevated during a spring practice in 2007, Debbie Elmore-Dion took both of her sons to the doctor when they returned to Simi Valley for a school break.

It turned out Rick was fine, but Cory was diagnosed with atrial septal defect, a condition affecting the heart's two upper chambers.

Cory had surgery to repair the hole at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in June of 2007, and he was soon cleared to resume football again.

But once he started regaining the weight necessary to play his lineman position, things didn't seem right.

His chest felt tight. He labored to breathe. His mind raced.

"It was scary," said Cory, whose weight is now down to 250 pounds. "I was too young to have these issues, and you hear about athletes dropping dead on the field with heart problems. It's not extremely common, but it happens."

Elmore-Dion knew there was more behind her son's concern.

The twins' father, Ron Elmore, died suddenly when they were 7 from a virus that entered his heart.

"The boys where playing with him when he dropped dead right in front of them," Elmore-Dion said. "It was horrible, and Cory thought it was his fault because he had the flu. It still weighs heavy on his heart."

In the midst of Cory's struggle, Rick was thriving. He was named a starter at Arizona before this season and anticipates a bigger role on defense.

But any joy from his own success was tempered by the sadness of his brother's internal strife.

The twins have been inseparable since birth and would crawl into each other's beds at night when they were kids.

They starred in football at Grace Brethren High School in Simi Valley and received calls from college recruiters. But they wouldn't listen to any offers unless it included a spot for both of them on the team.

"It is weird not having Cory out there with me," Rick said. "We've done everything together our whole life. But it's something I have learned to accept because I think he is making the right decision."

The bond between identical twins is probably the closest of sibling bonds, according to Dr. Nancy Segal, a professor of psychology and director of the Twin Studies Center at CSU Fullerton.

When twins take different paths after leading parallel lives for so long, it can be jarring, Segal said, but dual navigation helps ease the angst.

"Most twins I have worked with sympathize with one another and support each other and share the pain to get through it," said Segal, whose book "Entwined Lives" includes a chapter on twins in sports. "The one who plays will have mutual victories for both of them. Twins are amazingly noncompetitive in that way."

Cory waited until last month to officially quit football. But deep down he had known for much longer what his heart was telling him.

"Football is my current pleasure, but I want to be happy and healthy for the rest of my life," he said. "I want to have a family and be a good father and play with my kids. I want to give them everything my mom gave us."

Even before asking, Rick sensed his brother's closure.

"He seriously looked like a new person, like a huge boulder had been lifted off his shoulders," Rick said. "He is a lot happier now, and that makes me really happy for him."

Through Cory's ordeal also came self-discovery.

With more time to focus on academics, he realized he wasn't "just a dumb jock" and could get good grades.

During high school, he did just enough to stay eligible. But since his heart surgery, his GPA at Arizona hasn't fallen under 3.5.

Instead of playing in the NFL, he now dreams of attending medical school and helping fix problems like his own.

Last month, Dr. Stuart Hameroff, a Tucson anesthesiologist and Arizona fan, contacted the Arizona football office about Cory's interest in medicine.

Cory spent a few days shadowing Hameroff at the University Medical Center and observed an open-heart surgery.

"The whole thing pumped me up even more and just fueled my drive to be an anesthesiologist," Cory said.

The song on Cory's cell phone — "The Bare Necessities," from the "Jungle Book" — indicates his peace of mind.

Although he will never play a down of college football at Arizona, the void in his heart is beginning to fill.

He realizes he's not walking away from something, just walking in another direction.

"I believe everything happens for a reason, and this is something that is opening up a lot of different doors for me," Cory said. "It is hard because I still love football, but time heals everything."